The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A TaleCooper, James Fenimore
General
The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale
Cooper, James Fenimore
Sea stories
“Hold!” gaily cried the other, observing that Ludlow was about to quit
the room—“Let the time of our uncertainty be short, I pray thee. Our
mistress is like the insect, which takes the color of the leaf on which
it dwells. You have seen her in her sea-green robe, which she never
fails to wear when roving over the soundings of your American coast:
but in the deep waters, her mantle vies with the blue of the ocean’s
depths. Symptoms of a change, which always denote an intended excursion
far beyond the influence of the land, have been seen!”
“Harkee, Master Seadrift! This foolery may do while you possess the
power to maintain it. But remember, that though the law only punishes
the illegal trader by confiscation of his goods when taken, it punishes
the kidnapper with personal pains, and sometimes with—death!—And,
more—remember that the line which divides smuggling from piracy is
easily past, while the return becomes impossible.”
“For this generous counsel, in my mistress’s name I thank thee;” the
gay mariner replied, bowing with a gravity that rather heightened than
concealed his irony—“Your Coquette is broad in the reach of her booms,
and swift on the water, Captain Ludlow, but let her be capricious,
wilful, deceitful, nay powerful, as she may, she shall find a woman in
the brigantine equal to all her arts, and far superior to all her
threats!”
With this prophetic warning on the part of the Queen’s officer, and
cool reply on that of the dealer in contraband, the two sailors
separated. The latter took a book, and threw himself into a chair, with
a well-maintained indifference; while the other left the house, in a
haste that was not disguised.
In the meantime, the interview between Alderman Van Beverout and his
niece still continued. Minute passed after minute, and yet there was no
summons to the pavilion. The gay young seaman of the brigantine had
continued his studies for some time after the disappearance of Ludlow,
and he now evidently awaited an intimation that his presence was
required in la Cour des Fées. During these moments of anxiety, the air
of the free-trader was sorrowful rather than impatient; and when a
footstep was heard at the door of the room, he betrayed symptoms of
strong and uncontrollable agitation. It was the female attendant of
Alida, who entered, presented a slip of paper, and retired. The eager
expectant read the following words, hastily written in pencil:—
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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